The Reachman: Chasing Moons
by Bootstrap Bill
Summary: The Blood of the Dragon remains and as the confrontation between Divine and Daedra grows close, author Sean Finn is taken further from the truth. Do Martin and his heroes stand a chance or are their endeavours as foolish as chasing the moons?
1. Chapter 1 Part 1

**The Reachman: Chasing Moons; sequel to Night of Tears and predecessor to The Reachman: A New Dawn. ****It's almost here and it took a lot longer that I had hoped. If you were expecting a generic retelling of the Oblivion game, don't bother reading any further. Chasing Moons follows the events of Oblivion but I have spent a great deal of time making this experience unique and fun. **

**Currently Chasing Moons remains a work in progress and though I don't like releasing a half-product, I might not finish before TES V: Skyrim is released. So, read, critique and enjoy and stay tuned for more of The Reachman! **

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><p><strong>1<strong>

**13 Frostfall 3E433, Lake Arrius Caverns, Cyrodiil **

"Think of it as shedding off the burdens of a world no longer your own. The time of Preparation is over. The time of Cleansing is near. Soon Tamriel will be reborn in Lord Dagon's image. By following the Path of Dawn hidden in the writings of the Master, Mankar Camoran, you have earned a place among the Chosen. Welcome to the Mythic Dawn, brother."

"I live to serve the Master. Hail Dagon!"

"Your enthusiasm is welcomed. You have arrived at an opportune time. You may have the honor to be initiated into the Order by the Master himself. Follow me into the Shrine."

Harrow, chief steward to the Dagon Shrine hidden in the caves beneath Lake Arrius led the eager initiate down a passageway into a large assembly hall. Gathered within were _the Chosen_, those devout to the Daedric Prince Mehrunes Dagon. Prostrated before their Lord and Destructor, Dagon's mortal servant, _the Master_ led them in prayer. His voice echoed off the cavern walls reverberating in an almost ethereal tone as if his words pierced the veil between realms.

_For Lord Dagon, the Punished shatter and break like glass at the sound of your coming steps!_

_For Lord Dagon, wash clean the corrupted and cleanse them in the waters of Oblivion! _

_For Lord Dagon, the Chosen shall forever be remade in your image in blood and fire!_

Their Prince stood unmoved - a sculpture of enormous size carved in His terrible likeness. The initiate could not help but tremble in fear and awe, that somehow Lord Dagon could see him through the dull inanimate eyes of the statue. His four arms were still, posed above his head to bring imminent destruction with one terrible strike. In his first right hand he wielded the battle-axe _Burāgā_, a weapon of such trepidation that its very mentioning brought the Dunmer of Mournhold to tremble. Fastened on his second left, _Svaccha-Jalā – _a menacing talon capable of brushing aside armies as if a field of wheat to reap. A crown of horns buried into his skull was befitting the Prince of Destruction.

Harrow motioned for the initiate to join the crowd. He obeyed. _The Master, _Mankar Camoran, an Altmer of some age and great experience stood with outstretched arms before his flock.

_Praise be to Lord Dagon who from nothingness brought creation for his worship. Praise be to your brothers and sisters. Great shall be their reward in Paradise! _

A female Altmer, her wretched and cratered skin half hidden underneath a crimson hood approached Mankar Camoran with a tome of considerable size in her hands. It looked as if it took great willpower and strength to hold this ancient book. Even the Master could not hide his trembling hands as his fingers gripped at the bindings and cracked open the pages.

_Hear now the words of Lord Dagon: __'When I walk the earth again, the faithful among you shall receive your reward..._

Mankar Camoran professed the words of the Daedric Prince, every so often looking up to gaze upon his followers. The initiate's heart raced with apprehensive anticipation. He locked eyes with his new Master and his knees went weak. Beside him, another crimson robed zealot whispered silent prayers to herself. The initiate was shocked by this gesture of disrespect – to speak while the Master did was surely an offense that brought severe consequences. Now the zealot moved towards the podium, carefully navigating her way through the tightly packed assembly. Her footsteps were silent, her body like water flowing through every nook and cranny. The initiate followed, unable to move with the same surreptitious maneuvering.

_My long duel with the Septims is over, and I have the mastery. The Emperor is dead. The Amulet of Kings is mine. __I go now to Paradise. I shall return with Lord Dagon at the coming of the Dawn! _

He bumped shoulders with a male Breton. Mankar Camoran's lieutenant was first to notice the disturbance.

"How dare you disrespect the Master!" the wretched Altmer scolded. "Harrow, what is the meaning of this? Bring him forward to me now!"

One of the worshippers grabbed the initiate by the arm. The initiate thrust the top of his skull into the man's nose, sending him recoiling backwards in pain. Now the entire gathering of Mythic Dawn followers turned away from their Master to investigate this act of assault. Before the Chosen could swarm the heretic, the sound of metal crashing to the ground redirected their attention to a high ledge overlooking the assembly area. Two shadowy silhouettes frozen in awe. _Assassins. _

"Chosen of Dagon, Soldiers of His Terrible Might! Kill the intruders!"

The Master raised his hands identifying the shadows on the ledge and the assembly hall exploded into panicked action. There was a great clamour as if a thousand fine serving dishes came crashing to the floor all at once. Armour summoned by incantation materialized over the flowing crimson robes of the worshippers. Dark metallic greaves covered their legs and ankles, pauldrons and thick cuirasses of refined steel emblazoned with the Rising Sun protected their torsos and weapons appeared tightly held in their gauntleted hands. The zealots rushed up the stairs to confront these assassins. Mankar's lieutenant aimed her _enchanted staff _and loosed a powerful bolt of lightning at the ledge. The two shadows leapt several feet down to safety, drawing weapons in the process. Armour-clad worshippers were upon them instantly and they were cut down almost as quickly.

The initiate felt the cold touch of steel against his skin. A zealot pressed a blade against his throat.

"He's with the assassins!" He accused. "Kill him!"

The initiate's eyes were wide with terror hoping to inspire sympathy in his executioner. All but the man's eyes were covered beneath an armoured faceplate and there was no sense any mercy would be shown to a traitor of the Master. The initiate drew his own dagger, hidden inconspicuously on his waistband and jammed it into the man's neck. As the worshipper fell dead onto the floor, his dagger sliced the initiate's throat, just breaking the skin.

"Oy! _That bloody hurt 'mate!_"

The assembly hall was overwhelmed with a cacophony of noises. Metal blades clanging against metal. Shouting orders closely followed by cries of pain. Another worshipper charged the initiate, taking a sideswipe at his head with a large mace. The initiate dodged the blow and bumped chests with his attacker. His dagger pierced through the dark metallic armour and was extracted with ease. He repeated and repeated and repeated until satisfied the man was dead.

Five Mythic Dawn guards swarmed the podium using their bodies to shield their retreating Master. The zealot he had seen moving through the crowd charged the stage with a slender blade that glowed bright green in the torchlight. She pushed her blade into one of the Master's bodyguards and withdrew it, then did the same to two others. The Master's bodyguards, preoccupied with the two assassins, failed to notice that their ranks had been halved. She moved without hesitation to strike down the Master, her blade aimed at Mankar Camoran's chest. But before the Mythic Dawn was made into a leaderless cult, the Master's lieutenant intervened, pushing the assassin away.

"Protect our Lord!" The lieutenant begged. "Protect the Master! Fight!"

The third assassin struck the lieutenant in the throat with an elbow strike and jammed her blade into the wretched Altmer's gut. With her dying breath she cursed the imposter who ended her life. The initiate fought his way to her aide. A new wave of worshippers overwhelmed the assassin pushing her off the podium.

"_Connor_." The assassin called his name while struggling to her feet. "_Kill Camoran!_"

Connor turned to see the Master, standing before the statue of Dagon, beseeching him to smite his enemies. Three Mythic Dawn bodyguards turned towards the Breton. Summoned armour covered their bodies and blades appeared in their hands. With a bone-shaking battle cry they charged ahead in the name of their Master. He could not think of how to out maneuver these well-armed warriors.

He froze.

Blade sliced flesh, blood spilled onto his face, and the warriors fell dead.

The two assassins stood over the bodies of their fallen opponents. One was a Dunmer, the other, a half-Nord. In their wake, the Mythic Dawn – defeated. Only the Master remained.

"He's mine." The Dunmer drew and arrow and strung his bow.

A flash of brilliant light erupted from the podium sending a shockwave throughout the cavern that knocked Connor and his companions to the floor. Though his eyes could not adjust to the blinding light, he could see Mankar Camoran, composed and unafraid standing before a sphere comparable to a miniature sun. Tucked underneath his arm, the ancient tome from which the Master had been reading moments earlier.

"Where I go…." He spoke not turning around to face his attackers. "…you cannot follow."

The third assassin appeared onstage, slicing through the Master's robes with her blade, cutting his left arm. The tome fell from the Master's grasp and he quickly vanished into the sphere, which instantly disappeared behind him. Once again, the caverns beneath Lake Arrius were dark. Connor was helped onto his feet.

"Thanks for savin' me arse."

The half-Nord patted Connor on the shoulder.

"Who is this?" He asked of the Dunmer. "Your friend you were expecting from Hammerfell?"

"Yes. I am Zidvyda." The Dunmer extended a hand and Connor shook it. "Are you okay?"

He checked himself over for wounds, ignoring a few bumps and cuts on his hands and forearms. Connor and Zidvyda examined the charred ground where Mankar Camoran had opened his portal and escaped. His ancient text, bound in a tan leather cover etched with black unfamiliar lettering, lay nearby. Zidvyda knelt to retrieve the tome.

"No!" Connor stopped the Dunmer. "It's _cursed._ Can't you feel it?" The Breton rubbed his head trying to dull a sharp pain in his temples.

"We can't just leave it here. It might be useful."

"Martin will know what to do." Connor suggested. "He sent us to track down these _Mythic Dawn _cultists. How did you and Roe end up here? I thought he was in Morrowind."

"That's a bit of an interesting story. Why don't you tell him, Roe?"

He did not answer. In the shadow of Mehrunes Dagon, Daedric Prince of Destruction, Roe stood toe to toe with the mysterious third assassin. The quiet warrior slowly pulled the crimson cowl down from off her head. The Dunmer looked up at Roe with wide eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek. The sound of rushing water echoed faintly inside the caves.

"Do you know who she is?" Zidvyda asked Connor.

"That is one _tough ladybird _my friend. A guildmate of mine who has her finger in more porridge bowls than I can count. Her name is _Sasha._"


	2. Chapter 1 Part 2

"Sasha?"

"Yes."

"Sasha _Arobar?_"

"You know her?"

"She told me to come here! Actually _I_ kind of figured that one out, but she's been helping me with my…investigation."

"Quite a small world we live in, isn't it?" Father Zidvyda commented.

The young author stood and paced about the small meditation room.

"This is some kind of…of…_setup! _Of course!"

Sean rationalized the ideas in his head, making connections, contemplating every detail he may have overlooked or thought insignificant. _It has to be more than a coincidence_ he thought. _Why didn't she say anything? Why didn't she tell me? _

"Calm down Mister Finn." Father Zidvyda motioned for the author to sit. "What do you think is going on here?"

"I don't know." He threw his hands up in exasperation. "She should've told me everything. She has been holding back information."

"Sasha is a mysterious woman. That's been her way ever since I first knew her."

"At Lake Arrius Caverns?"

"No. Before I was accepted as an Ordinator in his Lord Vivec's service, I served House Redoran as a footman of the Guard. Sasha is the daughter of Miner Arobar, a prominent politician of the House. When she was a teenager, her little sister Nartise was taken captive by thugs acting on behalf of _House Telvanni_. In turn, I was ordered by the Councilor himself to safeguard an envoy sent to negotiate her release, but by the time we arrived to where Nartise was being held prisoner, Sasha had already eliminated most of the Telvanni politicians and their retinue. We were doubtful that one mer alone could take on such a task. Fortunately for Nartise, I was wrong and her older sister succeeded."

"She _is _an amazing warrior." Sean complimented.

"I never saw Sasha again…that is until Lake Arrius caverns. I didn't even know her name until Connor told me, but I recognized her face. The inner workings of the Morag Tong were never any of my business."

"Morag Tong?" Sean recalled the Dunmer assassins that tried to kill him at the Waterfront District. "Sasha belonged to this order?"

Father Zidvyda nodded.

"She failed to mention that when she was cutting down three of her _kinsmen_."

The Dunmer priest took a long sip of his tea and then refilled Sean's cup before his own. Sean rubbed his brow in frustration.

"If Sasha is due to join us here in Rihad, I imagine that between the both of us we can answer any questions you have." Father Zidvyda offered.

Sean feigned a smile. _No matter who I talk with, I don't think I am ever going to find Roe. _

* * *

><p><strong>25 First Seed 4E46, Battlehorn Castle, Headquarters for the Enforcers of the Devout <strong>

"Through here."

Sasha was motioned down a hallway with a cadre of four heavily armoured Enforcer soldiers trailing behind. The group entered a room populated with sweat-drenched warriors engaged in practice combat against inanimate targets built of tree stumps and balls filled with sand. The Dunmer held her head high, averting her eyes from the gaze of the Enforcer soldiers, long deprived of the proper company of a woman.

One of the Enforcers, a male Cyrod with long shaggy hair and thick beard waited for Sasha to pass by before pinching the Dunmer in her backside.

"That's a _real_ women fellas!" He boasted to the hoots and hollers of his companions.

Sasha turned and faced the Cyrod. Her cadre of guards restrained her by the arms. The Cyrod Enforcer moved closer to Sasha, sniffing her neck sensually, forcefully caressing her hips. The elderly Dunmer tried to fight back but could not overpower her guards.

"_Captain Gerich._"

A hush fell on the room. _Footsteps_. An elderly Breton of small, stocky stature stood with his hands folded in his lap. Over a set of fitting black robes that dragged along the floor behind him, he wore a high-quality leather cuirass and matching gloves of the same material. The top of his head was smoothly shaved. What little gray hair he had was tied in a small ponytail. He carried no weapons. His movement was akin to the coming of a rainstorm, a darkness that shadowed sun, cloud and sky. All bowed in reverence and fear. The wall mounted torches flickered with his passing.

The Enforcer Captain lowered himself to the floor, his forehead touching the stone.

"What would you ask of me Sir Duncan?"

"Please stand."

Sir Duncan's politeness made Sasha extremely uncomfortable, skeptical of his true intentions. The Captain quickly rose as was commanded.

"Did you touch Miss Arobar?" Duncan inquired not looking at the Dunmer standing beside him.

The Cyrod man hesitated.

"Answer me." Duncan ordered in a cordial tone.

"Yes Sir Duncan. It was imprudent and I offer my sincere apologies."

Sasha was surprised with how apologetic the Cyrod sounded, though the penalty of incurring the wrath of the Seneschal of the Office of Faith and Good Conduct was a strong motivation to be genuine.

"I t is not I who you have wronged. You must ask forgiveness of Miss Arobar."

Captain Gerich turned and faced Sasha, his shoulders hunched and his eyes winced in fear that the Seneschal would strike him down from behind.

"Can you forgive me Miss Arobar? I was wrong to have accosted you."

Sasha nodded her head, sparing the Captain's life for his indiscretion.

"You should thank Miss Arobar for her mercy. She has shown little in the past."

The Seneschal addressed the other Enforcers.

"Captain Gerich was wrong and we have made amends for this, but _you…"_ Duncan now turned his attention to the four guardsmen assigned to escort Sasha. "All of you failed to obey my orders. Miss Arobar was to be delivered to me unharmed."

He motioned for them to release the Dunmer. The four Enforcer soldiers bowed their heads in shame, weary of the punishment they had brought upon themselves. It would be their lives, Sasha thought, for disobeying their leader.

"Death as a form of punishment is barbaric, a practice relegated to the heathen _Elves _of old. You will live to learn from your mistakes Captain Gerich. Your companions however will serve as an example that mercy comes not without _a price._"

Duncan turned and pointed randomly to four more Enforcers gathered in the room. He motioned for each man to drop to their knees. Hesitantly they did. The Enforcer soldiers were wide eyed and frightened.

"All of you, kill yourself through the abdomen."

Sasha's heart beat rapidly inside her chest. She tried to still her trembling hands. Duncan would not repeat himself. He waited impatiently for the task to be completed. The soldiers pressed the tips of their own blades against their bellies, aiming accurately so as to make their death painless.

Sasha looked away, though she could not shut out the terrible sounds. It was not over quickly. Duncan knelt beside the last Enforcer to draw breath, holding the man's blood soaked head in his hands.

"The slowness of judgment…is equal to impunity."


	3. Chapter 1 Part 3

Duncan Almeric led Sasha unescorted through a secret door accessed by a latch disguised as a candle fix. There was no illumination for the subterranean basement but Duncan navigated the hallways by memory. Unable to follow in the darkness, Duncan offered the Dunmer his hand which she reluctantly accepted. Like strolling lovers, the elderly couple descended to the lowest levels of Battlehorn Castle.

Once the last refuge for the exiled Breton military order the Knights of the True Horn, the fortress set perched atop the hills west of Chorrol had since been reclaimed by the rival order, Host of the Horn to which Sir Duncan belonged. As the most feared and respected warrior of the Host, Duncan Almeric, hereditary Duke of Tyre, was ordered by Baron Shrike, lord regent of Lainlyn, to eradicate the Knights of the True Horn who opposed his autocratic rule of the High Rock city-state. In the tumultuous years following the Oblivion Crisis, Duncan led an expedition from Tyre against Battlehorn Castle and captured the fortress without siege. Much to the displeasure of the citizens of Chorrol, newly appointed Imperial High Chancellor Ocato permitted the occupation without penalty.

After the Crisis, the Empire faced unrest; food shortages, riots, insurrections in provinces where Legion presence had been diminished and accusations of treasonous and corrupt acts by those who sought to reorganize the Council. A stable government backed by capable armed forces was needed to quell the chaos. Under the authority of Councilor of Defense Sergius Balderic, the soon-to-be High Chancellor allied himself with Duncan and his Knights which in turn provided a military presence in Cyrodiil, freeing the Legions to reassert their influence in the far reaches of Tamriel. In the wake of the War of Julianos, Chancellor Ocato abdicated his position in favour of Balderic who promptly appointed Sir Duncan, Seneschal of the newly created Office of Faith and Good Conduct.

The inspiration of hope for a better Tamriel under the rule of a new vivacious and passionate Chancellor quickly diminished with the deployment of Legion soldiers to intervene in the Morrowind Civil War. At the head of the Imperial armies sent to bring peace to the war ravaged home of the Dunmer was Tamriel's new political and military figurehead. On 11 Last Seed 4E29, Balderic captured the capital of Vivec City. This signaled the end of conventional military operations and in a premature act of victory, Balderic returned home to the Imperial City. What would follow was a two-decade long insurgency that reshaped an Empire, forcing the Legions to send thousands of troops to combat invasion in the south and uprisings in the north.

To fill the power vacuum left by the lack of soldiers in Cyrodiil, Chancellor Balderic passed several pieces of legislation without the approval of the Council citing the best interests of the Empire. Under the control of an essentially dictatorial government, Balderic safeguarded the Office from legal retribution. The heads of dissidents fixed atop pikes became the symbol of this new age in Tamriel's history. The Office summarily condemned thousands to death, sometimes for their political opinions or actions, but many for little reason beyond mere suspicion. Sir Duncan Almeric headed every tribunal and signed every execution order.

Sir Duncan led Sasha through a second hidden door, this one activated by a pillar that opened up an entire section of wall. The stench of dried blood and decayed bodies made her gag and her eyes water. The elderly Breton led Sasha into a chamber she had only heard of in whispered rumours and nightmarish tales – _The Phlegethon._ Duncan stood proudly, watching over his red robed Enforcer minions attending to the cruel operations of the Office's most diabolical facility. Standing sentry to this chamber was a _Minotaur Lord_, restrained by the neck with thick steel chains, though as obedient as a dog at the sight of its master. The half-bull, half-man beast patrolled up and down the rows of torture machines – not one of which was unoccupied. Many of Sasha's friends and compatriots had met their end in this very room. The man responsible rubbed her shoulder warmly and released her hand.

"If your goal in bringing me here was to extract information, I'll save you the trouble. I know where the author Sean Finn is and I will tell you in exchange for amnesty and safe passage to High Rock." Sasha reaffirmed the terms of her deal.

"This is not my goal at all. I live only to serve my Empire and the goal of any Imperial government is to protect that which it has fought to subjugate." Duncan led Sasha down through the chamber, lecturing to the Dunmer much like a professor to a student. "An Empire owes to those brought under its rule, all the protection of the nation. It owes nothing to the enemies of the people but death."

"Are these your enemies?" Sasha pointed to the tortured and mutilated captives who with desperate eyes begged to be released from their misery.

"An Imperial government must be forward leaning in its march and uninhibited in its movements than an ordinary government. For that, is it less fair and legitimate? No. It is supported by the most holy of all laws_: the salvation of its people._"

"This is wrong Duncan. Salvation cannot come to those whose hands are stained by sin."

"Was it not by the will of our Almighty Divines that the code of justice and equality were scored onto the heart of men? Is it not They who from the beginning of time decreed for all the ages liberty, good faith, and justice? The Divines did not free us from beneath the boot of oppression for kings and priests to once again harness us, like vile animals. The universe was created to proclaim Their power. They created men to help each other, to love each other mutually, and to attain happiness by the way of justice. Justice reigns supreme as the axiom of any peace."

"You can't hope to rationalize the murder you have committed against thousands of people."

Duncan walked beside one of his machines – a crane like device dangling a half conscious, emaciated prisoner by the wrists.

"Murder is only justice _prompt, severe and inflexible_._" _

Duncan retrieved a small sickle-like tool from off a nearby table and stabbed the captive, slicing him from his abdomen to sternum. The captive passed on without as much as a cry of pain. Holding the sickle still dripping with blood, Sir Duncan faced Sasha who restrained herself from attacking the Seneschal. Two red-robed Enforcers appeared on either side of the Dunmer.

"Now Miss Arobar, we will talk about Mister Sean Finn. If you resist, these gentlemen are going to strip you naked, tie you into this machine and cut off your fingers."


	4. Chapter 2 Part 1

**2**

**27 First Seed 4E46, Temple of Satakal **

Sean awoke to a rhythmic hum resounding from within the Temple. His head throbbed and his legs were stiff. He could not recall how his evening with Father Zidvyda ended; only that it opened up a round of new questions that begged to be answered. The author was shirtless, his sheets wrapped around him like a cocoon encasing a caterpillar. On the knee-high table beside him was a tray bearing a candle that smelled of pine, a small porcelain cup of lukewarm tea and a tray of flatbread and spinach paste. Sean sat upright, taking several minutes to allow the fluids inside his belly to settle. Redguard mead was certainly a lot stronger than the average Cyrodilic _liquor_ he occasionally enjoyed with his meals. As an honored guest, it would be impolite if Sean puked all over the carpet.

Sean hurriedly dressed, then helped himself to the morning meal careful not to spill any crumbs on the plush carpeting. The lukewarm tea was a perfect moderate temperature. The author gulped down the tea with hearty bites of the flatbread dripping with spinach paste.

The hum grew louder and Sean could discern that it was the collective song of hundreds of Redguard parishioners congregated in the Temple hall. He quietly opened the door to his room and examined the hallway. Empty. Sean closed the door to his room and proceeded down the hallway towards where he remembered the entrance to be. Before he could step foot into the grand hall, a white-robed priest stepped in his path. A raised finger across his lips prompted the young author to remain silent.

The priest motioned for Sean to follow and the author obliged, trailing behind the man as he was lead to the backmost row of pews. Sean guessed that the seating could accommodate at least two thousand people. For this morning's service, every seat was full. They were mostly elder Redguard men, dressed in traditional _stolas_, a white cloth wrapped around the body worn over a red tunic. These stolas were adorned with _Yokudan_ calligraphy and accompanied by a shawl draped over the head. Sean tried to remain inconspicuous while the Redguard worshippers swayed back and forth chanting their prayers. Leading them from the pulpit was another Redguard dressed in a blue and gold striped shawl. His hands were raised upwards towards the banner of Satakal.

The chanting continued until the Redguard standing on the pulpit turned and faced the crowd. The prayer stopped, the congregation removed their shawls and exchanged handshakes and greetings. Sean managed to catch a glimpse of the first row, filled entirely with Temple priests, rise and file out from the pews in an almost _military _like fashion.

"_Shom Haser gedalia." _The Redguard priest spoke the congregation.

_ "Shom Haser momneen._" The congregation replied.

The morning service was concluded and Sean did his best not to get in anyone's way. The pious Redguards gave Sean a look of bewilderment and disapproval. Others chose not even to acknowledge the presence of an outsider in their holiest of temples. Father Zidvyda finally greeted the author with a warm handshake after most of the parishioners had exited the Temple. He was joined by the librarian, Raghav.

"Thank you for the breakfast. I found it quite delicious." Sean thanked.

Father Zidvyda nodded.

"Have you had any luck finding the author of _The Reachman_?" He asked Raghav.

"I'm afraid I haven't. Like I told you before, years have passed since the author and I last spoke. I have tried to contact as many people I know who might be of some help and they have all told me the same thing."

"What is that?"

"You are a _wanted man_ Mister Finn." Father Zidvyda finished. "The Enforcers are acting with renewed fervor to find you, offering large sums of money for information leading to your capture."

"There are many whom I call friend that would help you just as easily as they would turn you in to avoid the Enforcers. You are safe with us in Hammerfell but I would not travel to High Rock or Cyrodiil." Raghav warned.

"What about Sasha? She is supposed to meet me here."

Raghav and Father Zidvyda exchanged glances.

"What is it? _Father_?"

"Sir Duncan and his Enforcers know she is aiding you."

Sean's heart stopped.

"I have to find her. If she is still in Cyrodiil she could be in real trouble."

"Like I said before Sean, if you go there you will be captured and most likely executed."

"I will backtrack the way I came. Kvatch is safe haven. From there I can buy passage to Skingrad and ask around about Sasha."

"It's not worth it. There are others who can help you track down the Reachman."

"That's not why I'm going to get her. She saved my life and has been good friend. I won't let her die so long as I have a breath in my body."

Father Zidvyda smiled in awe at the bravery displayed by the author. He nodded in approval. Raghav stepped forward and placed a hand on the author's shoulder.

"If you will allow it, I will accompany you on this task. After all, what better choice do you have for a bodyguard than an _Ansei_?"


	5. Chapter 2 Part 2

**02 Rain's Hand 4E46, West Weald Inn, Skingrad, Cyrodiil**

"Read it out loud! Come on, so everyone can hear!"

"If I read it too loud _they'll hear_. Everyone please quiet down. Quiet!"

In the cellar of a local tavern, patrons pushed and shoved to get within earshot of the latest news delivered by the _Black Horse Courier. _Once an independent news agency based out of the Imperial City, the Khajiit owned and operated business had since moved to the safety of Kvatch to avoid incurring the strict oversight of the Office. Keeping up the façade of peace throughout Tamriel was essential to Balderic retaining what little loyalty he garnered without the threat of violence. The Bravil-based _Imperial Dispatcher_ was now the only news agency _legally _allowed to distribute correspondence in Tamriel, though it was widely recognized as a biased and untruthful publication. Citizens often gathered in secret to hear the latest news smuggled from outside the Imperial territories.

A Redguard standing atop a pile of boxes once again begged for silence which finally came after several moments. Readingfrom the rigid parchment paper, he reported the latest happenings in Tamriel:

* * *

><p><em><strong>Proclamation of New Empire Decreed by Three Clans <strong>_

Hundreds of pamphlets have been sent by courier to the major cities of Cyrodiil and High Rock in what is being perceived as preempt to an invasion from Skyrim. Referring to themselves as The Three Clans, the leaders of this Nord army boast their numbers to be in the hundreds of thousands. They have proclaimed themselves "liberators" and have asked "…for the allegiance of those who wish to be reborn into a new United Tamriel." Chief of the Three Clans, who identifies himself only as _Bolverk_, speaks at great length on the failure of the post-Septim government to safeguard their territories and justifies his upcoming invasion with promises to "…allow each province of Tamriel to chose their own fate whether that is independence or mutual cooperation in a New Empire."

Since the rise of the pretender Balderic, Skyrim has grown into a land ravaged by civil war and atrocity. Unconfirmed reports speak of entire cities extinguished of all life and villages leveled to the ground. Most notable was the destruction of _Imperial College of the Voice_ in Markarth Side, an institute founded by Tiber Septim. This lawlessness is largely due in part to the withdrawal of the Legions over the years to the point where not one outpost yet remains within the borders of Skyrim. Because of this, the exact numbers and disposition of the Nord army has been relegated to suspicion, some officials even going so far as to deny their very existence. "One hundred thousand Nords joining together in a common cause is impossible to fathom." says Jesper Cloud-Watcher, a local shopkeeper in Kvatch. "I should know, I was born and raised there for twenty-seven years. We Nords are too damn stubborn to listen to one another."

Still, polls indicate that most citizens are frightened by the prospect of invasion. Others have more cause to worry about a Khajiit incursion from the south though no aggressive action has been taken by the Elsweyr Confederacy since their liberation of Leyawiin four years ago. In anticipation of this invasion, citizens from the outlying villages and communities are fleeing to major cities like Daggerfall, Orsinium, Sharnhelm, Vivec, Kvatch and sadly the Imperial City.

The Black Horse Courier attempted to reach Peter Berengeur, commanding general of the Knights of the Black Wolf and steward of Kvatch, however our requests have gone unanswered.

* * *

><p>The Redguard accompanied by two Bretons passed around copies of the publication. Discussion ensued; some argued in favour of these so-called "liberators", others weary of what destruction would come by the hands of the "barbaric Nords". Sean and Raghav left the crowd behind, choosing to adjourn to the quieter second level of the tavern.<p>

"Sasha warned me about this when I first met her. She says it's the reason I need to find Roe."

"To do what?"

Sean was confused.

"What do you mean? To _save us_ from Bolverk."

"Do you think we need saving? What if Bolverk's intentions are pure and he comes to Cyrodiil to liberate a land wrought with murder and greed? If these reports are true than he is a viable option for peace."

"Taking the path of _neutrality_?" Sean recalled Father Zidvyda's remarks on Ansei philosophy.

"We do not _walk _the path of neutrality. To be neutral would be to do _nothing._ I'm sure the Father has already told you we are quite an active faction. Instead we _see _the path before us in a _neutral _perspective and only by mutual agreement from both parties do we act."

"You…_ask permission_?"

"Essentially, yes. In times past, the reputation of the Ansei alone was enough to deter conflict. It was a more uncivilized time, before the various estates of Tamriel organized under the protection of civilized empires and organized nations." Raghav mournfully sighed. "The Way of the Ansei has become unnecessary. Our Hall Council has since taken great caution as to when and where we reveal ourselves, lest the powers that be recognize what threat lies dormant beneath the Temple of Rihad."

"You are cautious in the name of self-preservation." Sean turned to the barkeep and motioned for two glasses of ale. "I see nothing wrong with this course of action."

"It is selfish." Raghav snapped. "We tout neutrality as if it were the cornerstone of our oldest philosophies."

"And you think to the contrary?" Sean inquired.

Raghav paused for several moments as if deciding whether or not to share the answer with the young author. "I think to the contrary." He repeated with a smile. "Regardless of what decision is made by the Hall Council, Bolverk will come and unseat Balderic from his bloody throne. Were it my decision, the Nords would have my support and if I had to guess, the support of the Reachman as well."

"When we find Sasha, we'll be that much closer to asking him ourselves. Do you have any idea where to start? I don't have many contacts here that could help us."

"Me either. I have cautioned you against it, but traveling to the Imperial City would certainly increase our chances of finding her."

"Sure! All we need to do is get past the most heavily fortified boundary in Tamriel manned by soldiers who want to stick my head of the end of a pointy stick." The Ansei was not amused by Sean's outward sarcasm. "Not to mention that what remains of Balderic's Legions in Cyrodiil are camped along the only road leading from here to there."

"Sneaking past these soldiers will not pose a problem."

"I can't create _flaming swords _or do back flips! I write books!"

"Calm down Sean. I know you are worried about your friend. It's going to be okay."

Sean sat down at a table, burying his face into his hands. Raghav stood beside the frustrated young author. He placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

"I shouldn't have left her. She was _wounded _for goodness sake! Sasha's dead. I can feel it."

At that moment, a Nord of considerable size and stench approached the author and his Ansei companion.

"Did I hear you write? You a friend of that _crazy-Dunmer_?"

Raghav and Sean exchanged glances.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Gunnar. I'm local Fighter's Guild."

"You saw Sasha recently?" Sean tried not to get overly excited.

"Sure did. A Dunmer answerin' to the name _Sasha_ sat down and played a round of dice with me… right before she put a hole in the front door with poor Balan's face. Won me a boatload of money that night and bought me this _baby_ right here." Gunnar proudly coddled a shiny new silver longsword fastened to his hip.

"How long ago was this?"

"Well she was in here 'bout two, three weeks ago you see, but she came back not too long after that. She uh…well…"

"What is it?" Raghav asked.

"Ya'll weren't her friends were you?"

"You mean _are_? We _are _her friends."

"No I mean exactly what I said. Last time I saw that Dunmer lady, the Enforcers were loadin' her up in a wagon headed north. Where I reckon she was headed, most people don't come back from."

"Where? Tell me!"

"I'm sorry fella'. They took your friend to Battlehorn Castle."


	6. Chapter 2 Part 3

**Two days later**

Sean's heart raced with excitement, a feeling not present since his days serving as a Maritime Legionnaire. Outside the entrance of a rickety old mine along the Black Road outside of Chorrol, Sean quieted his horse, feeding it some grain and oats out of his hand. Raghav emerged from the darkness of a close grouping of trees, adjusting the straps on his outfit. The armour was form fitting, practical and patterned to camouflage against a clear blue-black night sky or dark grey stone castle wall. The Ansei carried no weapons. Sean was not surprised, knowing what capabilities the Redguard priest possessed.

The young author shifted the heavy weight of his steel cuirass, distributing the burden to rest evenly on both his shoulders. Though Raghav had been meticulous in finding an Enforcer Knight equal to Sean in height and build, the greaves were tight around the crotch and he could barely stuff his wide feet into the small boots. _When the fighting begins, _Sean thought _I'll ditch the cuirass and go barefoot if I have to. No way can I make it far in these children's shoes! _

"Remember, all you need to do is distract the sentries long enough for me to slip around the side." Raghav spoke as if reading the young author's thoughts. "Don't go off on any heroics now. Once you're past the gate, find the safest place and stay there and I'll take care of the rest."

"How are you going to get over the walls? Do you have rope?"

Raghav smiled but did not answer. He pulled down a cloth mask that blacked out his entire face.

"Should the need arise for you to take a life, will you be able to do so?

Speaking with the Ansei was comparable to a conversation with a shadow. Sean nodded. From his knapsack stashed nearby, Raghav retrieved a katana, faded-gold in colour, decorated with crimson and jade markings etched into the hilt. He handed it to Sean.

"You will find this to meet your needs. I hope the Elves of Summerset Isle trained you well. I will not lie to you. I have a feeling you will need it."

Sean unsheathed the blade, examining the curvature, acclimating his grip to handle the weight, nestling the handle in his palms. He sheathed the blade, satisfied and prepared. Prepared to take a life. Prepared to save a life. The katana would suit him just fine.

"Let's go get Sasha back."

* * *

><p>Educated at the finest universities and privy to the knowledge contained in ancient texts and books from across libraries in Tamriel, Sean Finn considered himself an intelligent individual. In <em>Sarai's Collection of Words Defined, <em>a dictionary whose purpose was self evident from the unimaginative title, Sean recalled the agreed upon definition for the word,

_Intelligence_: the ability to comprehend; to understand and profit from experience.

Being an intelligent individual who profited from experience, Sean therefore classified his current endeavour using another term taken from Sarai's Collection of Words Defined,

_Idiocy_: someone who takes action in a self-defeating or significantly counterproductive way.

"Holy Mother Mara, I'm gonna' die." The young author mumbled to himself.

His horse quietly trotted along, carrying him up the road towards Battlehorn Castle – headquarters to an Order driven by the sole purpose of incarcerating and murdering by way of prolonged torture; home those who had been hunting him for years; epicenter for the Empire's most relentless and merciless highly-trained and loyal warriors.

"Why did we have to do it this way? For goodness sake he can probably knock down the entire Castle." Sean spoke of his Ansei companion sauntering ahead somewhere in the woods. "They probably have my likeness committed to memory. Oh Father Stendarr, I know the last time we spoke was some…eight years ago but I promise if you help me survive this, I'll take up the Pilgrimage as soon as I can and your Wayshrine will be my first. Uh…Amen."

The horse whinnied, whether in agreement or aggravation Sean could not determine. He figured it was in his best interest to stop talking. Archers perched atop the high walls had likely noticed Sean riding for several minutes. The outline of the sprawling fortress was now clearly visible even in the dark of night. Thankfully it seemed Sean would need to fool only a handful of Enforcers to gain entry.

"Greetings Brother. May the Divines bless you and keep you warm on this frigid night." An Enforcer sentry greeted cordially.

"And same to you brother." Sean clumsily dismounted his horse.

"What business calls you _home?_"

"I'm here about the Dunmer brought to Seneschal Almeric."

"Yes? I remember her passing through."

"I have information collected by confidential sources in the Waterfront. She is a member of the Resistance and I have reason to suspect that she has knowledge of assassination operations planned against our Enforcer brothers in the City." Sean lied.

"Truly? I had no idea things have gotten that bad there."

"Indeed they have. Just last week two of our soldiers were brutally slaughtered in cold blood. We have evidence to indicate _she _was the culprit behind this murder."

The gripping tale of Sean's rescue in the Imperial Arboretum attracted the attention of more Enforcers that came to listen in. More attention was not what he needed.

"Don't worry Brother, Sir Duncan is personally attending to this _rotten-Elf _as we speak."

"What do you mean?" Sean inquired.

"He has taken her to the Phlegethon."

Sean gasped, his eyes were the size of apples and his jaw hung open. Recalling the horrible stories of gutted and flayed victims simmered in cauldrons of oil, he feared that Sasha was likely long dead or worse.

"What's wrong?"

The young author could not hide his visible fear. He quickly thought of an excuse.

"I had hoped to interrogate the _bitch _before Sir Duncan had his way with her. She could be of great value in uncovering sympathizers to the Resistance."

"Worry not for she yet lives. What condition she is in I do not know. Sir Duncan has not left her side since she arrived. That might mean a number of things."

A few of the Enforcers chuckled.

"May I pass through?"

Sean held his breath. The sentry waved the young author past, still laughing while he and his cronies exchanged stories of the Seneschal's torture techniques. The young author sighed, thankful he could infiltrate further inside the castle without taking a life. He exchanged greetings with two more sentries who opened the outer doors allowing him access to the Grand Hall.

Lining the central walkway of the Hall were finely crafted statues carved of pure gold. They depicted the Nine Divines – Julianos, Zenithar, Akatosh, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Stendarr, Arkay and Talos. Stendarr held a place of honour at the head of the room. It was a cruel joke that Balderic and his lackey Duncan, who were responsible for more deaths than the Oblivion Crisis and War of Julianos combined, chose as their patron Divinity, the God of Mercy. Sean stood before the likeness of an elderly man dressed in humble priestly robes. His long hair was matched by an equally long beard. With an outstretched hand he beckoned the faithful to accept his wisdom, to be thankful for the mercy shown to Men and to pass it amongst each other.

A roaming patrol of three Enforcers, foot soldiers as indicated by their black robes and armour, entered the Grand Hall. Sean immediately noticed their presence but did not turn away from the statue.

"The Divines never cease to inspire, do they?"

The Enforcers joined Sean, standing beside him as if he were a trusted companion.

"You do not find it hypocritical that our _God of Mercy_ holds this place of honour at the head of our Grand Hall?" Sean asked.

Either the Enforcers were outraged by this audacious comment or they took several quiet moments to contemplate the validity of his argument.

"The Goblet in Father Stendarr's hand is said to be the vassal with which he drinks the woe of Man. By doing so, he takes away our own desire for vengeance and in its place blossoms compassion and forgiveness."

"The Divines truly reign supreme Brother, to be able purge such a burden from our hearts."

Sean's hand inched down by his waist. His fingers wrapped around the handle of his blade.

"_Not mine._"

In one motion, Sean drew the golden katana from its scabbard and swung it sideways penetrating deep inside the neck of the Enforcer beside him. The blade easily pierced through skin, flesh and lodged in the backbone. The Enforcer fell like a heavy sack of vegetables. Sean was unable to retrieve his sword and it fell from his grip. As the second and third Enforcer reached for their weapons, Sean charged into them, knocking one into the other and onto the floor. The young author tugged and pulled to free his own blade, succeeding only after both Enforcers were back on their feet with weapons drawn.

Sean turned so that his back was pressed against the statue of Stendarr. Moving with slow and deliberate steps, one Enforcer occupied Sean's attention by feigning an advance then quickly retreating while his companion took the author from his left side. Sean held his position, waiting for the Enforcer beside him to come closer. Seconds passed like minutes. _Come on Raghav, where are you? _Sean prayed for the highly skilled warrior to intervene. No such help came.

The Enforcer lunged at Sean with his blade. The young author deflected the attack with an amateurish maneuver then overpowered his enemy, bumping into him again with his heavy steel cuirass. The blow caused the Enforcer to recoil. Sean spun like a dancer on his toes, bringing his blade about in a complete circle. The Enforcer was prepared to block the strike. Sean lowered his stance mid-spin and the golden katana cut through the Enforcer's thighs and groin.

Sean stood and squared off against the remaining Enforcer. His companion lay wounded on the ground, pleading for help. Sean raised his sword and plunged it into the man's chest. The crying stopped. His blood soiled the ground and his body continued to twitch for several moments. This angered the surviving Enforcer who attacked with a sloppy cut to Sean's neck. Rather than backpedal to avoid the strike, Sean advanced forward angling his sword diagonally along the side of his body. The Enforcer's blade glanced off his own and the warrior stumbled, unable to control his own momentum. By the time he turned to face the young author, Raghav's golden katana was slicing through the air, inches away from his neck. The cut was flawless. The Enforcer's body fell, his head rolling across the Grand Hall like an orange fallen from a tree.

With the hour so late, Sean prayed most of the garrison was either asleep or enjoying the last bits of an evening meal. Eventually someone would stumble across the bodies. It would not take much time for the Enforcers to figure out who was responsible. Sean left the Grand Hall behind. He needed to the find the Phlegethon – a place of infamous repute rumoured to not even exist.


	7. Chapter 2 Part 4

_ A change of disguise, that's what Raghav would do. _He could hear the shouts of Enforcers calling for aid, mustering search parties to scour the Castle for an intruder. The young author took refuge in a bedroom. He searched through a large chest of clothes, selecting a standard set of black Enforcer armour. He buried the steel cuirass and greaves beneath a laundry pile of red robes which he also used to wipe his katana clean of blood. Though it hardly seemed time for a haircut, Sean took a pair of trimming sheers and cut off his small ponytail, tossing aside the tuft of brown-blonde hair. Hopefully this new appearance would make it difficult for the gate guards to identify him should they cross paths again.

Sean inconspicuously poked his head out into the hallway. Satisfied no Enforcer patrols were about, he exited the room and bumped into a group of soldiers that came running around the corner.

"Easy! Easy! It's only me!" Sean raised his hands.

"Who are you?"

"There's no time! He's headed to the Phlegethon. I think he's going after the Seneschal."

"Well then, come on!"

Sean joined the frantic game of hide and seek, running down the halls of Battlehorn Castle checking every side room and closet knowing that _he_ was not in any of them. The Enforcers led him to a training room, to a small alcove lined with archery targets. Activated by a latch disguised as a candle fixture, the doorway to the Phlegethon was revealed. Suddenly there was a calamitous crashing of steel and stone that shook the entire Castle foundation. Sean took comfort knowing Raghav was most likely the cause.

"What was that?"

"We are under siege! It's the _Knights of the Black Wolf!_" Sean lied.

"That can't be!"

"_Don't argue with me!_ Take your men and see to the defenses!" Sean ordered.

The Enforcer protested. Sean grabbed the man by his shirt collar and repeated his order.

"I will deal with the _intruder spy._ The Knights are the real threat. Go! Now!"

The Enforcer obeyed.

Sean ducked through the entrance and used his dagger to disrupt the unlocking mechanism. Darkness overcame him. He used the walls to guide him further down the hallway. The stone walls shook with the sounds of battle. _Raghav is more than capable of handling himself _Sean thought. _My job is to find Sasha and get her out of here. _The young author tried not to think of what diabolical torture Sasha had endured these past few days while he was partying and relaxing in the company of a hospitable Temple.

"_Patience._ Just like Father Zidvyda teaches." Sean spoke aloud to himself. The sound of his own reassuring voice gave him confidence. "This tunnel has to lead somewhere."

A dead end.

Sean felt around for a missed side passage or doorway. There was none. _Perhaps another secret lever, like before? _After quite a few failed attempts to pull stone from its mortar, Sean tugged at a stone pillar and opened the entrance to the Phlegethon. A foul stench made Sean cough and spit. He could taste the stink of human decay on his tongue. The torture chamber was brightly illuminated. From a balcony overlooking the main floor, Sean could see red-robed Enforcer clerics toiling away over broken bodies and crying souls. The prisoners wailed. The clerics did not speak. Some took notes on parchment paper, examining their specimens as if they fancied themselves proper scholars of science.

"You there! What's going on outside?"

Sean stood and faced an Enforcer dressed in purple and black armour. The young author recognized the Enforcer was an elite bodyguard of Seneschal Duncan Almeric. Sir Duncan was never far from the protection of these highly-trained warriors.

"Please, come quickly. The Knights are right behind me!" Sean pointed to the tunnel from which he came. "They are mounting an attack on the Battlehorn!"

The elite bodyguard rushed to investigate. Sean drew his katana and shoved it through the man's back, pushing him into the darkness of the cave where he finished off the Enforcer silently. _That's one less bodyguard to deal with. _Sean tried not to grow to overconfident. The author had gotten lucky taking out _one_ of these elite soldiers, but soon three more surrounded him with swords drawn and angry faces.

"Drop your weapon brother." An elite Enforcer ordered.

"I'm not your brother." Sean challenged, refusing to drop his katana.

"_Then who are you_?"

The voice was distant, cordial and inquisitive. The elite Enforcers bowed in the presence of the Seneschal. Sean tightened his grip, holding Raghav's katana in an awkward attack stance. An elderly Breton of small but stocky stature waved his hands, insisting his bodyguards not retaliate. Sean was enraged by the Seneschal's calm, almost uncaring mannerisms.

"Introduce yourself please."

"Where is Sasha?"

Surprise.

"It cannot be!" Duncan clasped his hands together in excitement. "_Mister Sean Finn_. You have come for your friend? What _bravery!_"

"I didn't come here to warm myself in your admiration. I came here to avenge Sasha Arobar."

Duncan waved his hands and the three elite Enforcers rose to their feet and surrounded the author on all sides. Sean lowered his stance.

"Who do you think you are talking to?"

"A murderer. A psychopath and a dead man if you would but take two steps forward."

"I would never do harm to Miss Arobar. We have served in combat together after all and I owe my life to her more times than I can count."

"You lie. You are a deceiver."

"Miss Arobar came here on her own accord and she was just about to leave with my good graces and prayers for a safe journey to High Rock. We spoke at great length, mostly about what you are doing here in Cyrodiil.How you seek out my good friend _Roe. _A truly remarkable individual if you ever have the chance to know him."

"Shut up! _Shut the_ _fuck up!_" Sean shook his blade violently.

"If you don't believe me, why not ask her yourself?"

Sean's eyes swelled with tears, his legs weakened and he dropped to his knees. Raghav's golden katana fell from his grasp. Moving with a familiar vivacious fervor, Sasha walked past the Seneschal and knelt beside the young author with a look of sympathetic displeasure on her face.

"I'm sorry Sean. You should not have come here."


	8. Chapter 2 Part 5

Sasha tried to give Sean a reassuring caress. The young author pulled away in anger.

"You did not tell me what an honourable and faithful companion he was. It is unfortunate I cannot say the same about you." Duncan spoke to Sasha, mocking her with his seemingly flattering words. "As promised, here are the documents you requested." The Seneschal held a scroll in his hands, sealed with freshly pressed red wax. "An Imperial pardon for crimes against the Empire and safe passage to High Rock in exchange for information on where to find Mister Finn. And I didn't even need to send out a _collection party_."

The Seneschal smiled. Sasha did not. She turned and accepted the document from Duncan, taking a moment to review the text. Once satisfied, the Seneschal ended his business and waved Sasha away. Two elite Enforcers grabbed hold of Sean by the arms. A hood was thrown over his head and his hands were bound. The Enforcers forced him onto his knees. The young author did not resist.

"Duncan." Sean could not see but he could tell the voice was Sasha's.

"Our business is concluded Miss Arobar. Please leave."

An uncomfortable silence. Through the mesh stitching of his hood, Sean barely discerned the silhouettes of the elite Enforcers surrounding Sasha. It would be his last opportunity to escape before the Seneschal saw to his torture and execution. He shook away the sadness and feelings of self pity and focused on finding Raghav's katana lying somewhere nearby.

"He comes with me." Sasha demanded the author's release.

The words did nothing to inspire hope that the Dunmer who had betrayed him would now secure his freedom.

"No. Mister Finn will stand trial for crimes against the citizens of this Empire. You will leave now and pray I don't change my mind."

Sean desperately searched for the katana, not caring if anyone saw him helplessly scurrying about.

"Give him to me Duncan."

Shuffled footsteps. A long drawn out sigh.

"I've changed my mind. _Take her._"

Sean pressed himself against the flat stone floor, safeguarding against any unseen attack and trying not to interfere with the combat. There was the sound of steel against steel and in just seconds the tearing of flesh. One of the elite Enforcers collapsed onto the floor. The swordplay continued. Sasha fought hard against the skilled warriors. Sean did not know if Duncan too had taken up arms. He tried every which way to removed the hood from his head.

A powerful explosion sent the young author sliding across the floor. Chunks of rock pelted his body. An Enforcer screamed as he was sent careening off the balcony and onto the chamber floor below. There was a bright glow of light, visible even through his dark hood. The light grew brighter and brighter until the obscurity of his hood was penetrated and disappeared.

"Thank goodness you're okay."

Raghav tossed away the hood and looked over Sean for wounds. Sean imagined that if he were ever blessed enough to stand before one of the Nine Divines, he would be similar in appearance to the Redguard priest. Basked in a smokeless blue and white flame, his skin was translucent and ice cold to the touch. His eyes glowed bright white.

"Don't move. Stay low."

A fresh wave of Enforcers emerged from the hole left behind in the interior castle wall. The Ansei, though greatly outnumbered, stood his ground. The Enforcers shrunk away in fear, compelled to press their attack only by the consequences of showing cowardice in battle. Two beams of light shot forth from Raghav's arms, pointed like blades though shapeless and flexible. Ten Enforcers attacked the lone Ansei. Raghav moved his arms horizontally and where the beams of light passed through, bodies split in clean cut pieces. Enforcer clerics from the Phlegethon Chamber clamored up the stairs – their pet Minotaur in tow. The clerics released the steel bindings on their beast sentry and sent him to rid Battlehorn Castle of the intruder. Raghav clasped his hands together and cut the Minotaur down his center line as if slicing a tomato in half. The clerics and Enforcer Knights scurried away through every possible exit until the Chamber was left empty.

Sean came to his feet, the bindings on his hand having been cut loose. Raghav moved his arms and legs into various poses until the light and smokeless flame emanating from his body faded completely. Sasha lay unconscious on the ground nearby. Duncan was nowhere to be found.

"On your feet Mister Finn. Let us leave this dreadful place."

"What about the prisoners!"

"There is no time. Balderic's Legions will come for us soon."

"I won't leave them!" The author protested.

Raghav gave Sean a sympathetic look. The Ansei was a warrior of virtue and would not maliciously doom the prisoners to their fate without reason. Sean capitulated, his heart aching for the wounded and half-dead tortured captives of the Phlegethon. Raghav snatched up the Dunmer and tossed her limp body over his shoulder. He led the way through destroyed sections of the castle wall until they were at last back outside.

The young author panted heavily, barely able to keep pace with Raghav. It was a two-day journey to Kvatch where Sean's friend Darius could provide them refuge. After one half hour of running, Raghav signaled it was finally safe to stop and make camp. The crumbling stone of Battlehorn Castle was well beyond sight.

"Drink something or you will pass out."

Raghav laid Sasha on her back, resting her head on a bed of ferns. Sean was hunched over a log, puking whatever was in his stomach onto the forest floor. His calf muscles cramped from overuse and his hands shook violently with adrenaline. It took several minutes for him to calm down.

"That was impressive Mister Finn. You did very well. Sasha is resting for the moment but will be back to her old self in no time. I'd call this endeavour a _success_."

Sean leaned himself against the trunk of a fallen tree. He uttered not a word of the Dunmer's betrayal. There would be a reckoning for her deceit but until then he still had many questions to be answered.


	9. Chapter 3 Part 1

**3**

**21 Frostfall 34E33, Gnoll Mountain, Cyrodiil **

Sasha tightened the drawstrings on her woolen cap hoping to lessen the biting cold that numbed her ears. Her legs ached from trekking for days through knee-high snow, but she refused to sit and rest lest her rear end become frostbitten. Her dark leather outfit, efficient for sneaking about in the shadowed alleyways of the southern cities, was not so practical for prolonged sojourns in the northern mountains of Cyrodiil.

What should've been a three day journey from the Dagon Shrine beneath Lake Arrius back to Cloud Ruler Temple north of Bruma was now well into the eighth. Sasha motivated herself to press forward, imagining that soon she would lie barefoot, inches away from a roaring fireplace. So vivid was the imagery that she could feel the warmth caress her shoulders and neck. A bear-skin cloak had been draped across her shoulders. Roe was beside her, his arms and shoulders exposed to the nipping winds.

"Your friend Zidvyda tells me you speak now. Is that true?"

He did not answer.

"Won't you talk to me?"

Still no answer. Sasha hung her head in shame, her heart aching from the guilt of leaving a vulnerable younger Roe. Before their reunion in the Lake Arrius caverns, it had been nearly six years since she last saw her former mercenary companion. The malnourished and beaten slave-boy was now a proper young man. Roe was _handsome,_ well mannered and he carried himself with confidence. She recognized Amir's blue and maroon scarf which Roe wore proudly around his neck. Perhaps after all these years he still remembered the long days and rainy nights the Riders spent together, laughing, eating and sharing stories. She certainly had not forgotten.

Zidvyda and Connor were huddled behind the stone face of a large boulder, struggling to keep alive a small cooking fire against the strong gusts of wind. Sasha trudged her way through snow, desperate for refuge from the cold. Something caught her foot mid-stride and she stumbled and fell to the ground. Roe extended a more than friendly hand and helped her back onto her feet. Sasha reluctantly released her grip on his wrist.

"Do you know when your friend Jiles is due to arrive?" Captain Steffan called from across the flat mountaintop, barely audible over the howling wind. "If I have to spend one more night on this mountain I think my foot will fall off!" He joked.

Steffan moved closer, having a similarly difficult time stepping through the snow, burdened by the weight of his heavy Blades armour. He removed his steel gauntlets and rubbed his hands together hoping to create warmth.

"I bet it never gets this cold in _Rihad, _eh? Oblivion would freeze over before you'd see a winter like this in Hammerfell." Steffan exhaled into his cupped hands and rubbed them together again to pass the uncomfortable silence.

Sasha waited for Roe to reply. He did not.

"Anyway, his highness said he wants to see you."

"He's not my Emperor." Roe finally acknowledged the Captain.

Sasha was taken aback by his keen annunciation and calm tone.

"Of course you would say that. It's so easy to criticize when everyone has food on their plates and a Legionnaire standing guard over their homes. Even after our Emperor is murdered and the whole world faces annihilation, you fail to realize how important it is for a Dragonborn to sit upon the throne."

"We've done plenty so far Captain." Sasha answered. "I'm sure you can appreciate that."

"The Blades stand ready to give our lives in the name of Martin Septim. Every soldier under my command is a hand-picked volunteer from the Legions. We don't tolerate _rotten _attitudes. If you are not loyal to the Empire then why are you helping us?"

Roe hesitated before answering.

"Sometimes we do things we don't want to, _for the common good_."

Roe led Sasha across the snowy mountaintop to the entrance of a shallow cave. Baurus was huddled low to the ground outside the entrance. Roe pushed his legs through the snow, showing no signs of fatigue even after their hours of endless marching. Sasha followed directly behind, moving her feet in the cleared pathway. At the entrance to the cave, Roe paused and spoke for a moment with Baurus who answered only with a nod. Sasha was at least one foot shorter than Roe and still both companions had to hunch over to enter inside. A bright light from a hand-held torch flickered as its bearer sporadically moved from one corner of the cave to the next. Fastened to his hip was a slender curved Elven blade with a smaller steel dagger tied to his leg. He was covered beneath a brown cloak twice the length of his body that trailed behind him like a cape.

"Hello Martin." Sasha greeted but the young priest did not hear her words. Roe then cleared his throat loud enough to gain Martin's attention.

"Oh! My apologies." Martin immediately stood and offered a proper greeting. "Though it might seem the Gods are against us in our endeavours, I'm thankful we have been fortunate to find _suitable _accommodationson our journey."

He forced a smile and turned about in a circle surveying the interior of the natural cave: barren, dark and devoid of any life.

"Recovering this _text _from Lake Arrius has been quite a task, hasn't it? I'm glad you all decided to notify me before taking it for yourself."

Though quite familiar with the subtle mannerisms of her once mute companion, it took little more than a trained eye to see that Roe was displeased having to follow Martin's lead.

"What Roe means to say is that Connor thought the book might be cursed."

"Oh, of course." Martin shied away from the imposing red-headed warrior and scurried towards his knapsack lying on the floor on the opposite end of the cave.

The young priest sat in deep concentration, carefully peeling away the canvas covering of his pack as if it were the skin of a banana. Held at the furthest possible arms length away from his body was the ancient text once belonging to the Mythic Dawn's mysterious Master, Mankar Camoran. Martin strained as if he were carrying a load of heavy stone bricks in the palms of his hands. The colour in the capillaries of his eyes fluctuated between bright red and dark green. Not once did the young priest draw breath. Every drudging step was made with considerable effort towards an unlit corner of the cave furthest away from the entrance. Martin eased himself onto his knees and placed the text atop an oddly constructed rock pile. Once the ancient text was set atop its stone pedestal, Martin quickly retracted his hands and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "As you can see, the burden of this tome is quite overwhelming even _with_ the proper precautions." Martin spoke. "Just handling it requires all my energy lest I fall prey to its powerful enchantments, hence the _graphs_."

Surrounding the ancient text were chalk markings; Daedric letters and outlines of constellations drawn on the floor in a deliberate and specific pattern. Similar graphs were painted in ash on Martin's forehead, hands and throat.

"In a way, the book itself _is _a curse. It _speaks _to me. In a faint whisper I hear a name called over and over_…Xarxes._"

"I've been around my fair share of relics and artifacts but _talking books_ are a first for me. Maybe we should just leave it here?" Sasha suggested.

"No. If Mankar Camoran has the Amulet of Kings we must use every available means to pursue him."

"And this _Xarxes _can help us do that?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. I'm not even sure what the true potential of the Xarxes is, which is why we must take care to avoid the main cities and roads. I can't be sure that the Xarxes won't open a portal to Oblivion or allow Mehrunes Dagon to listen in on our plans. For now, we shouldn't even return to Cloud Ruler Temple."

"So where are we headed?" Sasha asked.

"I sent your companions Ayisha and Jiles to bring back a scholarly colleague of mine from Kvatch. He is an expert in Daedric studies and should be able to interpret the Xarxes. We await his arrival."

"He's from Kvatch? What makes you think he's still alive?"

"Thanks to a brave Legionnaire, he escaped capture during the Siege. I remember seeing him in Anvil before we left for Weynon Priory."

"What's his name?"


	10. Chapter 3 Part 2

"I am Professor Menien Goneld, Master Practitioner of Daedric Arts and Chief of Daedro-archaeology at the University of Cheydinhal in Kvatch." The elderly Cyrod man introduced himself.

Roe recognized the volunteer guardsmen Corporal Archimbaud had carried on his back out of Oblivion. His knowledge of the realm, specifically how to disable an Oblivion Gate, proved invaluable during the Siege of Kvatch.

"What do you mean by _practitioner_?" Captain Steffan interrogated from underneath the warmth of a frost encrusted blanket.

A storm front had swept over the mountaintop during the night, forcing the entire troupe, including Jiles and Ayisha who arrived only minutes ahead of the blizzard, to seek shelter inside the small cave. Ten travelers politely competed for the warmth of the small fire within.

"I worship the Daedric Spirits." Menien answered.

"Your highness! We cannot trust the teachings of one who consorts with the enemy!" Captain Steffan argued.

Martin raised his hands and begged the hot-headed Blade calm down. Menien shook his head in disbelief.

"Your bigotry towards that which you fear and do not understand while pathetic, also demonstrates your inability to comprehend the entirety of this situation." Menien retorted. "I speak of that which is and has being, whether or not it is observable or comprehensible."

Connor was still confused as was everyone else inside the cave. Menien frowned at their denseness and stretched his neck to either side - a prelude to a very long and confusing explanation.

"For those that adhere to the Alessian Pantheons I ask you to temporarily disregard all that you know as truth for in my recounting of this tale I would undo much of what you are conditioned to believe. To the faithful, it is evident that there is a constant two-sided struggle between Good and Evil represented by the Nine Divines and Daedra respectively. To resist the temptations of the Daedra is to walk a path of righteousness and so humanity has mistakenly stumbled along for millennia."

"In the Beginning Times, the Universe existed in a perfect state of quintessential Totality, interpenetrating every part of nature and timelessly extending beyond. The Original Spirits were the elements of Totality manifested into spiritual bodies - the children of the Universe in the most metaphorical sense. First Created and Mightiest of these Spirits was Auri El. Auri El looked upon the Universe and despaired for he could not see where the Universe began or ended. Thus Time itself was created, a boundary imposed by Auri El to protect the Spirits of Totality from the darkest unknowns of Far Space. His domain was Stasis, the Dominion of the Spirits. This was the first Division of the Universe."

"Division of the Universe?"

"Yes. To date there have been Three. The Second Division came when the Spirit Lorkhan Element of Awareness created Mundus, our plane of existence."

"Many see Lorkhan as a treacherous Spirit. He is the reason humanity has fallen from the favour of the Gods and why the Altmer no longer are immortal." Martin added.

"I do not disagree that Lorkhan may be indirectly responsible for these events, however most cannot see past their own prejudicial upbringing. There are many popular depictions of Lorkhan as a trickster or manipulator but these portrayals are all incorrect. The Spirit Lorkhan, like his other kindred Original Spirits, sought only to understand the Totality from which they were created. Lorkhan humbly beseeched Auri El to permit him passage outside the Dominion of the Spirits to explore Far Space. For in all of his infinite wisdom, Auri El could not see that Time was a constriction, choking the Original Spirits off from that which they needed to exist – the pure Total energy of the Universe. Lorkhan understood that only by expanding the boundary of Space-Time, would the Spirits avoid fading away into nothingness. So Auri El was convinced and the Great Spirit sent Lorkhan to the farthest reaches of the Universe and oversaw Lorkhan's experiment which he called Creation."

"The spirits that aided Creation became the Aedra, those that refused, the Daedra." Baurus recalled Martin's lesson with the apple.

"Not so!" Menien disagreed.

"This is heresy!" Steffan again voiced his disagreement.

"Your majesty, don't tell me you believe this _demon-worshipper_?" Baurus seconded.

Martin paused before answering, rubbing the back of his neck, apparently nervous to answer the Captain's question.

"We mustn't be so easily persuaded to understand the Universe as Good versus Evil, Right versus Wrong or _Daedra versus Divines_. These are labels Men and Mer use to understand our purpose and at times justify it as a means for personal gain. I have always tried to look past the conventional perceptions and think objectively. Confusion is a forest." Martin continued. "From afar the woods may appear docile, even welcoming. There is no telling what unknown dangers lie within and we must be cautious. Truth is the way through. Only hours ago, there was but one way ahead. Now we understand there is another."

All were speechless, impressed by the enlightened words with which the young priest spoke. Baurus and Steffan though strongly opposed to the heretical teachings, capitulated in favor of their Emperor's judgment and allowed Menien to continue.


	11. Chapter 3 Part 3

"Auri El allowed Five Spirits to travel with Lorkhan and aid in Creation. Magnus the Architect parted the astral seas from nothingness and that which was the darkest unknowns of Far Space joined existence as the New Dominion. It is impossible to quantify for how long Magnus toiled to prepare the New Dominion to merge with the Old for Time did not yet exist in these new spaces. To keep Magnus from losing his way, Haz'ra Element of the Morning and Evening Star, stood watch over Creation and thusly there was Night and Day. K'nyarit Element of Elements anchored the epicenter of the New Dominion with an astral body unlike any other which M'rah Spirit of the Accord brought into harmony with the Universe. K'nyarit and M'rah toiled as one and from their cooperation, brought forth the prize of Lorkhan's Creation – Nirn. Around Nirn, Lorkhan named his New Dominion. This was the Second Division of the Universe."

"When Auri El came to expand Time unto the New Dominion, K'nyarit and M'rah were reluctant to forfeit their most precious Creation and so beseeched Lorkhan who barred entry to the Great Spirit. When Auri El realized Lorkhan's treachery, the First and Mightiest of the Original Spirits was furious and Lorkhan and his kindred Spirits were banished from the Old Dominion. Most of the Creation Spirits accepted their punishment and were content to endure eternity as stewards of a New Dominion, but Magnus the Architect fled from the sight of Nirn and repented his betrayal, pleading with Auri El for mercy. Magnus tried to force his way back into the Old Dominion through the barriers of Space-Time but failed and was undone from existence. His destruction was so dynamic that it tore open the fabric of Space-Time. Through this fissure between Dominions, other Original Spirits gazed upon Lorkhan's Creation with tempting curiosity, eager to participate in such a grand spectacle."

"You speak of The Discord?" Martin asked.

Menien nodded.

"Some of the Original Spirits asked to join Lorkhan in his Creation. Auri El would not permit any Spirit to leave the Old Dominion. This was the Discord. Lorkhan openly challenged the absolute dominion of Auri El, proclaiming his New Dominion supreme. Some of the Original Spirits joined Lorkhan and escaped the Old Dominion through Magnus' fissure. Nirn blossomed like a flower bud opening its petals to greet the first rays of sunlight after wintertide. Torn from their heavenly bodies, the Spirits of Creation forged the heavens, the moons, stars and planets. They filled the oceans and raised the shores above them; painted the sky and brought forth plants and animals from the ground. Y'ffre Element of the Untamed became the Ehlnofey, progenitors of all life on Nirn. Mer'adia Element of Life breathed higher existence unto the Ehlnofey. These privileged beings called themselves _Aldmer, _honorific of the Element which bore them. Stae'darr Element of Curiosity created Men to cooperate with the Aldmer and discover their intriguing ways."

Roe and Sasha were captivated by this new outlook on existence. Even Martin, priest of the Divines seemed accepting.

"From Creation, _new _unique Spirits formed - byproducts of the interplay between the Original Spirits. Julianos Element of Interaction taught the Men and Aldmer how to learn from one another. Sanguine Element of Indifference was his antithesis and menacingly convinced Men and Aldmer to abandon knowledge in favour of passion and revelry. Later came, Zenithar Element of Exchange, Hircine Element of Sustenance and so on and so forth. When Creation was complete, the New Dominion rivaled that of the Old and soon Lorkhan made his preparations to conquer Auri El."

The old professor chuckled in anticipation of the next portion of his tale.

"What's so funny?" Ayisha asked.

"Lorkhan was quite proud of his work, but did not take into account that with such interplay of heavenly bodies, there would be an unavoidable exchange of elemental essence between the Spirits. Lorkhan inadvertently shared his Element of Awareness with every Spirit involved in Creation! They now understood that Creation had again divided the Universe and the Spirits were further severed from their universal connection to Totality. Lorkhan pled with the Creation Spirits, explaining that his conquest of the Old Dominion would reunite the Universe. Sixteen Spirits agreed to aid Lorkhan. Seven Spirits opposed and would eventually succeed in helping Auri El overthrow the New Dominion."

"The Daedra and the Divines!" Sasha exclaimed.

"There was battle and at the end, Auri El stood victorious and Lorkhan was smitten. The Old Dominion reigned absolute over Known Space. We know this as _Aetherius_, the Immortal Plane, realm of the Original Spirits - Aedra. The Seven Spirits faithful to Auri El were granted stewardship over the New Dominion which was renamed _Mundus_, realm of the Divines. The Sixteen Spirits loyal to Lorkhan were cast out of Creation into a space dimensionally parallel to both the Aetherius and Mundus. This was the Third Division of the Universe and created the realm of –"

"Oblivion." This time Roe contributed the answer.

"Precisely. Contrary to the romanticized depictions of Daedra as demons obsessed with malice and destruction, Daedra strive above all else to return to Totality. It was only after millennia of failure that the Daedra lords turned to meddling with Mundus, spurred on by the hope that undoing Lorkhan's Creation would reveal a way to reunite the Universe. Auri El and his Seven Spirits established covenants with the mortal inhabitants of Nirn to protect them from the Daedra and in return are deified as gods. The strongest of these covenants was enacted between Auri El and the bloodline of Septim emperors."

"Oblivion Gates have opened across Tamriel, from Daggerfall to Argonia." Baurus inquired with a hint of desperation in his voice. "Refugees flee from the carnage and our Legions organize to confront the Daedric hordes. How can this be?"

Menien rubbed his legs, limp and useless as a result of the torture he endured during the Siege of Kvatch. He closed his eyes for several moments as if having fallen asleep. When he reopened his eyes, the elderly professor spoke again with a noticeable aloofness.

"The act of Creation and the Divisions of the Universe were significant spiritual separations for the Original Spirits. The Divines adhere to the Stasis imposed by Auri El and though their spiritual omnipotence is diminished, their quintessential selves are focused. By comparison the Daedra live outside the confines of Space-Time and are able to constantly manipulate their environment. Daedra are more spiritually omnipotent, however their quintessential selves are unpredictable, and sometimes dangerous."

"Daedra are able to routinely penetrate these Divine barriers on a limited scale when summoned at shrines, through the Arcane Art of _Conjuration_ or when manifesting material artifacts like the weapons and armour. With the dimming of the Dragonfires, the barriers between Oblivion and Mundus are at their weakest which makes transcending the realms through Oblivion Gates possible. Maintaining the covenant between Divines and Mortals is our only solution to stop Mehrunes Dagon and the Daedra from bringing about a _Fourth_ Division of the Universe. If he succeeds, our entire plane of existence will be destroyed."

"So Martin is still our greatest hope in surviving this?" Baurus reaffirmed. All eyes turned towards the young priest half covered in his gray priest robes draped over his head like a blanket. "We protect him at all costs until we can figure out a way to find the Amulet of Kings."

"How? Mankar Camoran used the Xarxes to escape through some kind of _portal _or doorway and he took the Amulet with him." Connor added.

"Do you think the Xarxes can help us?"

"Yes." Menien replied. "I believe Mehrunes Dagon taught Mankar Camoran how to create his own personal realm, a _paradise _safe from the coming destruction. That is where the portal leads. We can use the Xarxes to open a second portal and go after him."

"Excuse me professor, but we need more options. What if we can't track down this Mankar Camoran?" Jiles interrupted, hoping to steer the conversation back to more important matters. "What we need is a plan of attack. Do you know how to defeat Mehrunes Dagon or not?"

"Do you mean kill that which is neither living nor dead? No."

"So what good has this lesson been?" Steffan shook his arms in frustration, shaking off a thin layer of snow. "_What a_ _waste of time!_"

Steffan stormed angrily out of the cave followed closely by Baurus, choosing to brave the harrowing blizzard winds rather than listen to Menien's lecture. Eventually Martin too left his colleague behind with a disappointed look on his face. When only Connor, Roe and Sasha remained inside the cave, Menien dragged his limp legs across the floor and covered himself underneath a blanket, exhausted and no doubt embarrassed. Sasha felt sorry for the professor but could not offer him any comfort.

"Is it safe to return to the Cloud Ruler Temple?" Sasha asked of Menien.

"No, we must go east." Menien answered.

"Where?"

"There is a monastic order hidden away in the mountains far north of Cheydinhal. They possess an artifact which will allow us to interpret the Xarxes. We can leave tomorrow and be there before the end of the week."

"Great, because that's just what we need." Connor joked. "_More priests._"


	12. Chapter 4 Part 1

**4**

"We're here."

Menien was stirred awake and took a few moments to assess his surroundings. He wiped away the drool that trailed from the corner of his mouth to Roe's shoulder like a spider's silk thread. Roe shifted his weight so that the Menien rested higher on his back.

Martin dropped his pack and rested against the side of a stone cottage, relieved to have at last reached civilization. Captain Steffan and Baurus attended to their tired and travel-weary ruler with the loving attention of a mother. Roe's companions from Rihad were also pleased to have reached their destination and shared a celebratory early lunch of hardened sweet rolls. Sasha was not so easily lulled into a sense of security and remained vigilant, occasionally scanning the high ridges for any signs of danger.

The monastery was a quaint collection of cottages and a chapel of standard architecture crafted from precision-cut stone frosted white with layers of snow. Hovering swarms of insects were carried on the wind, buzzing about rows of vegetable patches and hand-planted _crab-apple _trees that blossomed vibrant pink flowers. Sasha could see only a few priests, their ornately multi-coloured robes discernable against the snowy mountainside.

"Did you say something?" Menien was now half-awake.

"We have arrived." Sasha repeated.

"_Excellent. Excellent_." Menien instantly came to his senses. "We must find the Crypt. That is where the priests keep the _artifact_."

"Don't you know where it is?"

"No." Menien replied. "I've never been here before."

Roe moved out of earshot from Martin and his Blades who were already convinced that bringing the Daedric practitioner along was a mistake. Steffan and Baurus had questioned the extent of Martin's relationship with Menien. The young priest admitted he knew only of Menien as a scholar of note at the University in Kvatch. He described their relationship as "cordial at best". Captain Steffan scolded the naïve priest, emphasizing the importance of secrecy in their travels. Sasha, for once, agreed with short tempered Blade and took it upon herself to keep an eye on Menien. She suspected Roe pursued the same objective, having volunteered to carry him for the entire four day journey.

"Now what do we do?"

"Follow me." Connor joined the conversation, confidently leading Roe and Sasha up a small paved walkway towards the mausoleum.

"Have _you_ been here before?" Menien curiously inquired of the Breton.

Connor did not answer. He raised a hand, calling the attention of a nearby priest who was busy tending to one of the gardens. It took much effort for the corpulent Nord to stand and greet the visitors. His face was covered almost entirely by a bushy blonde beard and his hair was cropped in a tonsure style, the traditional haircut for priests and other clergy.

"Hyvää huomenta en tervetuloa, minun nimeni Veli Paju. Voinko auttaa sinua?"

"What is he saying?" Connor asked.

"His name is Paju and he's speaking _Nedic_." Roe explained. "Minun nimeni on _Roe_ en _Sasha_, _Connor _en _Menien_." He introduced, speaking in the same language as the priest.

"Olen nähnyt hänet ennen. Hän ei voi tulla! Hän ei voi tulla!" Paju turned his attention to Connor and shooed him away with his hands.

"He says he has seen you before. He wants you to go." Roe translated.

"How would he know who you are?" Sasha asked.

"I was here a few months ago on g_uild business_." Connor seemed to know of Roe and Sasha's mutual occupation and did not care if Menien caught on that he was referring to the Thieves Guild. "You brought us here for _Savilla's Stone_, didn't you?" The question was directed towards Menien.

"_By the Spirits, it does exist._"

Paju decried the mention of this artifact aloud and he was not afraid to vocalize his distress. Roe again spoke to the priest in his native language hoping to bring calm to the situation. Unfortunately, the argument caught the attention of Captain Steffan and the remaining members of the troupe along with more monastic priests.

"You must permit me to enter the Crypt!" Menien begged, practically crawling over Roe's shoulder. "I will not accept _no _for an answer."

A cordial conversation between individuals was quickly exacerbated into a belligerent confrontation between the fatigued but heavily armed travelers and the entire parish of silk-robed priests. The priests linked arms and chanted in unison, walking slowly forward pushing the travelers outside the confines of the grounds. Jiles and Ayisha raised their voices above the low chanting of the priests. Baurus stood his ground and Ayisha bumped chests with Paju. Martin tried to prevent the confrontation from turning violent.

"Why have you come here? Leave us alone." A priest asked in Cyrodilic.

"We are here on _Imperial affairs_." Captain Steffan proudly proclaimed. "We _demand _food, water, shelter and cooperation."

"Our Order has always and continues to faithfully serve his majesty _Divines rest his soul _and whomever the Council should deign replace him. There is no need for bullying."  
>"The Blades <em>bully <em>no one. You are obliged to serve the Empire."

"Martin! If you want to save Tamriel we must be allowed inside." Menien called out. "Savilla's Stone is our key to _salvation!_"

There was a great uproar of disapproval from the priests who upon hearing the mentioning of their artifact again, drew katana blades from underneath their robes that glistened in the light of the late morning sun. The travelers were taken by surprise and had no opportunity to arm themselves. Baurus pushed Martin to safety. There was an uncomfortable and confused silence.

"Kivi om Savilla ei kuulu sinulle."

"Savilla's Stone does not belong to you." Roe translated Paju's words.

" Jätä nyt ja unohtaa koskaan tullut tänne."

"Leave and forget you ever came here."

"No! Don't listen to him. _I must have Savilla's Stone!_" Menien angrily cried.

"Keep him quiet Roe!" Zidvyda ordered.

Roe drew his dagger and cut the leather straps that secured Menien to his back and the professor dropped to the ground. This action temporarily distracted the armed priests and the travelers drew their own weapons. Dictionary - View deAyisha knocked away the katana blade held against her throat and pressed two dagger tips against Paju's thick neck. Sasha loaded an arrow and strung her bow, aiming it at the swordsman closest to Martin. Roe, with his arms folded across his chest, rested against the stone cottage and laughed.

"What are you on about?" Steffan asked.

Roe looked around and smiled. Scurrying across the rooftops and emerging from behind the cottages were thirty or so priests who had silently surrounded them on all sides, each one armed either with a slender katanablade, a bow or an axe. All wore blindfolds that covered their eyes completely.

"Is this for you real? They're all – _you all are blind_!" Steffan laughed.

"Captain, don't be foolish." Martin warned. "I am ordering you to lower your weapon."

"_We will kill you if you do not_." One of the blind priests added. "_Obey your master._"

"Martin, these men dare raise weapons against you! They first must lower theirs and only then will I lower mine." The Blade kept his sword at the ready.

"I won't repeat myself Captain." Martin ordered. "Sheathe your weapons. _All of you._"

Steffan hesitated.

Martin's eyes narrowed in disbelief that a Blade would openly disobey an order from the Emperor. The young priest snatched the blade from the Captain's hand and sheathed the sword for him. Baurus smiled and sheathed his own weapon as did everyone else. Martin caught a quick glance from Connor who nodded in approval.

"Such a blessing it is to command peace through the spoken word. You _must_ be a Septim."

The voice was that of a middle-aged woman. She appeared surrounded on all sides by armed blind priests. Beneath an extensively garlanded crimson shawl, her face shone brilliantly as if looking upon a reflection mirrored on the still surface of a pond. Her crystal nose piecing and jewel encrusted brow twinkled as beautifully as any evening star. Blown glass earrings shaped to resemble flower petals dangled from either ear and multi-coloured bracelets covered her wrists and upper arms.

The blindfolded priests cleared a path for her, pushing Steffan and Baurus away from their Emperor. The Blades were too mesmerized to resist. She was barefoot and glided above the snow, accompanied by a thousand _gypsy moths_ that swarmed about her person as if she were the eye of a hurricane. These winged insects scurried up her arms and legs, covering her completely as if she wore a vibrating gown of white, maroon and golden-yellow. She stood before Martin and curtsied, lowering her head in reverence.

"I am _Indira,_ daughter of Savilla. Welcome, _your majesty _to the Temple of the Ancestor Moths."


	13. Chapter 4 Part 2

Sasha was marveled by the Moth priests as they scurried about carrying and serving their guests plates of food and glasses of various drinks. The blind priests moved without any apparent means of aided navigation, avoiding collisions with their brethren by inches. The travelers quietly pointed, whispering amongst themselves, anticipating that sooner or later these blind monks would bump into each other and an entertaining _crash _would ensue. _How are they doing that? They cannot be blind, there's no way. _The hushed speech was meant to spare embarrassing their sight challenged hosts, although these same priests had only hours earlier stood poised ready to bring swift death to the Emperor and his elite bodyguards.

"It was then that your Father, _Divines rest him_, first came to our monastery." Sasha could overhear the conversation between Indira and Martin. "He arrived in disguise, cloaked beneath a drab and tattered robe caked with layers of mud. Understand we have many parishioners who journey from all over Skyrim and Cyrodiil so visitors are not uncommon. But when Uriel walked straight past the gardens to the Silk Tomb, we immediately knew who he was. The Tomb is our most revered holy ground, the entrance protected by powerful enchantments. Your Father of course saw could see past this veneer and looked upon our Tomb as it is meant to be seen."

Indira raised her hands and begged that the travelers again marvel at the inner sanctum of the Silk Tomb. To the untrained eye, the mountains that loomed over the humble monastery outside were barren and unexplored. Only with the aid of the majestic high priestess Indira were Martin and his troupe able to see the miraculous stone architecture carved into the mountainside. The Silk Tomb towered hundreds of feet higher than any structure Sasha had ever seen save White Gold Tower. The exterior resembled an Alessian-style temple with rounded pillars and triangular shaped roofs crafted of polished silver and marble. There were statues of fierce animals posed in proud stances beside faceless warriors clad in decorated armour and clutching weapons. The entrances were wide and cut smoothly as if eroded over thousands of years by flowing water. The ceilings were high enough to accommodate the company of mythical giants.

Further inside the Tomb was a central chamber crafted to resemble a traditional _mead hall _found prominently in the villages of Skyrim and northern Cyrodiil. Colourful tapestries illuminated by torchlight decorated the cavern walls, depicting important historical events and scenes from mythology or lore. These expansive dining areas could accommodate fifty to one hundred guests, all seated on one side of a wooden dinner table cut from the finest timber available. Martin sat at the far right end of the thirty foot table, a place reserved for the most honoured guest because of its close proximity to the kitchen where the aroma of prepared foods was strongest. Indira sat to the left of the young priest, practically in Martin's lap which made him visibly uncomfortable.

"I was only a young girl at the time so it was a bit overwhelming to perform before the Emperor." Indira continued while her guests enjoyed their drinks.

The young priest was polite and gave his full attention to the priestess but seemed detached from the meaning of her words. Indira sensed this unease.

"I understand your confusion, highness. I too have no recollection of my _real _mother or father."

"Was not Savilla your mother as you so auspiciouslyclaim?" Menien challenged, calling past Sasha, Roe and Connor seated to his right.

"I was born of Savilla but she did not raise me." Indira shrugged off the abrasive question. "A midwife named Karyn nursed me and raised me to be a priestess of this Order."

"I don't see too many other _ladies_ about." Connor observed.

"Each Monastery has but one priestess." She answered.

"You aim to tell me that you're the only _lady _amongst all these sexually abstinent men? Quite a shame all of 'em are blind."

"How did these men lose their sight?" Martin finally posed the question on everyone's mind.

"My dear Martin, there is a lengthy and _quite confusing _explanation which I have found over the years is insufficient in providing a true understanding of our ways."

Indira picked a strawberry from a bowl of assorted fruit, twirled it in a serving dish of whipped milk and cream then sensually placed it inside Martin's mouth. Connor raised an eyebrow and gulped down his liquor. Baurus and Steffan quietly debated whether this behaviour was appropriate for an Emperor. Even Sasha could not help but feel enticed by the suggestive priestess.

"_Let me show you…_"

Indira rose from her seat and elegantly glided across the chamber out of sight. Martin sat petrified with a whipped cream dipped strawberry still hanging off his lips.

"It's good to be the king." Connor laughed.

The chamber echoed with the low reverberation of a ram's horn blown at the lowest frequency. A blind priest stood atop a raised platform with three other Moth priests by his side, each bearing a musical instrument. First the _willow flute _played a series of staccato notes, a short and fast repetition that caught everyone's attention. Next, the sound of bare hands beating against a batá, a two-sided hourglass shaped drum with stretched cow hide pulled tight over both ends. Sasha tapped her feet to the melodious beat now complimented by the willow flute. Indira appeared against the backlight of a large open fire pit, her crimson shawl covering her from head to hips. The priestess moved her hips from side to side to the rhythmic shaking of a _shek-shek,_ a hollowed-out melon full of dried beans and seeds.

Indira danced flirtatiously across the room for several minutes, twirling her legs and feet in the air, manipulating her fingers and hands into certain shapes. She slowly pulled away her shawl and held it so that only her eyes were visible. Indira looked up towards the ceiling then quickly hid her eyes beneath the shawl. Sasha glanced at the ceiling and was overwhelmed to see that thousands of gypsy moths were moving in rhythm with the priestess. Indira turned her gaze towards the moths for a second time. Like a wave crashing upon the shore, the gypsy moths soared down upon the priestess who dramatically cowered back underneath her shawl. She disappeared beneath a cloud buzzing insects that swirled around the room performing a dance of their own. In the midst of this swarm, Sasha could see Indira twirling in a circle as if she were teaching the moths how to do so. At her command, the music ceased and the gypsy moths dispersed from the chamber leaving Indira standing alone covered beneath her shawl.

Her guests applauded and cheered in approval. Jiles had practically climbed onto the table before Ayisha pulled him back and slapped him on the back of his head. Connor whistled and Indira curtsied and scurried back to Martin's side.

"Here, here _lil' miss_! How'd that one move go again?" Connor stood up on the table, knocking over several empty liquor glasses, and drunkenly imitated Indira's dance.

"_Oh please._ In Elsweyr, my people actually have some _meaning _behind our dances. We just don't go _shakin' our asses_ about." Ayisha scoffed, resting her snow and mud encrusted boots on the table. "_I could do better._" The Khajiit mumbled the last part under her breath.

"So was there a hidden meaning behind your dance?" Zidvyda asked politely.

"It's called the Tanssi, short for _Tanssi esi Silmissä_ which means Dance of the Ancestor's Sight." Menien answered before Indira. "These priests beleive that the strongest of our ancestors are reincarnated as gypsy moths, fully retaining all of their past knowledge and experience. It is believed that the combined wisdom of these ancestral spirits allows one to surpass the metaphysical boundaries maintained by both Daedra and Divine; the same barriers I spoke of in our discussion several days ago. This is called Transcendence. Transcending the veil of Space-Time offers a connection to Totality from which Universal omnipotence is achieved. But such a gift comes at great cost. Even a glimpse into the nirvana of Totality is an incomprehensible experience for any mortal, as so eloquently displayed by Indira and her _very _imaginative use dance."

"Your companion is correct." Indira agreed. "Our bodies can neither understand nor are physically able to assimilate such pure, untainted Universal energy without the necessary preparation. In order to strengthen our connection to the Universe we first attract the ancestor moths to our gardens. They seem to be very fond of crab-apple trees." A tiny moth scurried up her arm and the priestess gently stroked its wings. "Then we meditate, joining our own spirits to those of our ancestors so that we may learn from them. After many generations, we have refined our techniques and the strongest of us are able to periodically Transcend into either Oblivion or Aetherius. Sadly our methods are not infallible and at the pinnacle of our education we are stricken blind."

"Then how is it that you have retained your sight?"

"Because," Menien answered. "she is an _Oracle._"


	14. Chapter 4 Part 3

"How did you know that?" Zidvyda asked of Menien, whose knowledge of the Ancestor Moth priests was suspciously extensive and accurate.

"Savilla was an Oracle as are all of her bloodline, including _our generous_ host Indira."

"What is an Oracle?"

"I find it quite amusing that suddenly you are interested in what I have to share with you, Captain." Menien scolded the impatient Steffan. "Had you chose not to cut short my lesson, I would have gladly shared this information with you days ago."

Steffan bowed his head.

"Enough with the _I told you so's_." Connor pressed the conversation forward. "Just get on with it, eh?"

"An Oracle is any mortal who possesses Lorkhan's Element of Awareness. Oracles are _born_ with the gift of Transcendence, precognition and prophecy. Their knowledge of the Universe is ultimate and their ability to Transcend the realm comes without consequence. That is how Indira is able to control the gypsy moths. She is in complete spiritual _harmony _with her ancestors who are as much a part of her as she is them."

"Your companion is quite the _flatterer._" Indira blushed.

"Is he correct though?" Martin asked. "Are you truly an Oracle?"

Indira kissed Martin's cheek.

"When I was thirteen years old, I was taken away from my home in Hammerfell to this monastery. Karyn, the midwife who raised me since birth, held my hand tightly the entire journey. She detailed my future as a priestess of the Ancestor Moths and as an Oracle. Five years earlier, I foresaw that same conversation knowing the exact year, month and time of day it would occur."

"What was it like when you met Savilla?" Menien interrogated, his tone of voice making it seem that he already knew the answer and was merely testing the priestess hoping to catch her in a lie.

"When I met my mother it was much different than say, the way you and I all met." Indira began.

"You mean she didn't press a sword tip against your throat?" Connor laughed.

This comment made Indira blush and a number of the priests chuckle as well.

"Savilla came to me while I danced among the cosmos, experimenting with my new found powers of Transcendence. Such an experience is difficult to convey in words. I was carried like a feather caught in a breeze. I soared above the stars, the sun and moons, carried up from this world into Oblivion. Through the ash, smoke ridden ambit of Malacath, I was a glimmer of Light. In the Moonshadow of Mehpala's Grace where colour and beauty was overwhelmingly ambient, I was Dullness. I was an oddity, otherworldly even to the Daedric Spirits as I individually passed through each of the Sixteen Princedoms."

"Upon entering Aetherius, I was greeted by the Aedric Spirits. These mighty deities seemed bothered by my presence as Oracles are the spiritual vestiges of their hated enemy, the Spirit Lorkhan. I was promptly sent on my way to the edges of Their Dominion where I glanced upon the Universe safely from behind the veil of Time. Here, Savilla first revealed herself."

"She was a woman of indescribable beauty and poise. When she spoke, her lips did not move but I heard her gentle voice in my mind. I took her hand and together we surpassed Time and ventured out into the unknowns of the Universe. Together we witnessed the Genesis of Existence, the creation of Creation, the lost years of the Dragon Break, the struggle of the Two Dominions, and the Five Divisions of the Universe."

"Five? I thought there were only Three." Jiles questioned.

"Actually, not even Savilla knows _truly _how many Divisions of the Universe there have been. Menien has told you of the Three. There are still two more to come in the next millennia or so, give or take a few years."

"Oracles can see the future?"

Indira shook her head. "To see the future would incorrectly imply that Time is a linear pathway that can be viewed backwards and forwards. Remember that Time is an artificial boundary imposed by the Mightiest Auri El to bring order to the Universe. Savilla has taught us to Transcend and see the Universe _without _Time – a glimpse of all the Universe is, has been and will be."

Grasping such a foreign concept was difficult for many of the travelers, evident from their blank but eager stares.

"So if Oracles are the only mortals than can Transcend realms, why do the Moth priests even try?"

"Theoretically anyone is capable of Transcendence." Menien answered, again demonstrating his ample knowledge of the topic. "For thousands of years there have been attempts by mages, wizards, scholarly professors, even clergy to leave the mortal world behind and connect with the Totality of the Universe. The Ancestor Moth priests have come closest, chronicling their successes and failures using gypsy moths to achieve near-Transcendence. Even with aid from the Oracles, the ill consequences are unavoidable. There is only one way, a technique that if performed correctly will allow one to Transcend Space-Time and return safely to their physical shell. To all others but the Oracles it is a mystery – the _Mysterium of Xarxes_."

"Xarxes? That's the name of Mankar Camoran's text." Martin realized. "I could hear the name whispered in my head over and over again."

"Were you of any lesser blood Martin, those whispers would be piercing screams." Indira spoke. "The Xarxes would overwhelm your brain and leave you a shallow husk devoid of any higher thought. Your senses would dull and eventually fade altogether. No one but _you _must handle the book." The priestess was stern and momentarily gave an unfriendly glance back towards Menien.

"Who was Xarxes? Was he a Spirit of some kind?" Baurus asked.

"When Auri El sought to expand his Dominion, Five Spirits accompanied Lorkhan on his journey into the unknowns of Far Space. Menien shared with you the names of Four. The Fifth was Xarxes."

"Yes, the _professor _seemed to have left that out. It might have been useful." Steffan narrowed his eyes in frustration.

"I thought it best you hear it from the Oracle." Menien defended.

"So you knew the whole time?"

He nodded. "Xarxes served as a _scribe _of sorts, and catalogued the entire process of Creation. Auri El could not see past the boundaries of Time and so relied on Xarxes to relay the events back across the Universe, like a messenger. This was how Auri El discovered Lorkhan was molding himself a New Dominion. Xarxes was the Element of Universal Knowledge. To know Xarxes is to have complete and absolute omnipotence. There are even those who believe that he predated the actualization of Auri El."

"I'm no Daedric professor, but I understood Hermaeus Mora as the Keeper of the Infinite Knowledge." Zidvyda added. "A vision granted by this Daedric Prince is the reason we came to Cyrodiil in the first place."

"It is unknown how or why but shortly before the destruction of Lorkhan, Xarxes faded entirely from existence. Before his disappearance, Xarxes passed along the Universal Knowledge as detailed in the constellations and astral bodies of the Universe. With this knowledge, Auri El could restore the Totality of the Universe as it once existed. It wasn't until after Lorkhan was undone that Auri El and the Spirits realized they needed the Element of Awareness to interpret Xarxes' Knowledge. After many failed attempts to decipher the Mysterium Xarxes on their own, Auri El decided to pass this Knowledge to the spawn of Lorkhan's Creation."

"You mean us? Mankind?" Martin asked.

"Yes. Auri El and the Aedric Spirits agreed that perhaps at a subconscious level we are all imbued with the Element of Awareness. So the Divines delivered unto us select portions of Xarxes' writings which we know as the _Elder Scrolls_ in hopes that someday Lorkhan's Creation might prove itself useful and mankind would decipher the Universal Knowledge. Until then, the Divines protect our world and essentially the last hope of returning to Totality." Menien coughed and took a long sip of wine. "At last we have come full circle, to the culmination of why I have taken you so far into these northern mountains, through blizzards and harrowing winds to a humble monastery of blind ideologues. Look around you, for we are in the presence of those who have achieved that which is coveted by Gods themselves!"

"Indira, do you know how to defeat Mehrunes Dagon? How can we recover the Amulet of Kings?" Baurus inquired of the priestess.

"Even now with my waking eye I see the False King, Son of the Usurper is almost ready to bring forth Invasion from Oblivion. Mankar Camoran thinks himself untouchable in the paradise of his own making, but he will learn that you have come to me and that soon, _one _of you shall come for _him_. The text you recovered is written in the language of the Elder Scrolls and the Moth priests are the Keepers of the Scrolls. As such, I can interpret the writings and open a portal to Mankar Camoran's realm."

"I eagerly await the opportunity to learn, High Priestess." Menien grinned with overwhelming delight.

"No, not you."

Menien's eyes flared with rage. The elderly professor raised his fists in the air as if to slam them down upon the table, but quickly stopped himself before doing so.

"Martin is the key to salvation and with him alone I will share my interpretations of the Xarxes…for a price."

Martin straightened his shoulders and spoke with confidence to the majestic Oracle seated beside him. "What would you ask of me Indira? I am prepared to do anything to bring an end to this Crisis once and for all."

"Tonight you shall lie with me and I will bear you a child that the bloodline of the Dragonborn shall not end with your passing."


	15. Chapter 5

**5**

**03 Sun's Dusk 3E433 **

Their journey from the Temple of the Ancestor Moths would be set under a clear blue sky. Sasha bathed her skin in the warmth of a brightly shining sun. Blind Moth priests carried satchels of food, securing them to the saddles of two brown Chestnut horses given freely to the Emperor and his entourage. Roe and Sasha stood together in the shade of a crab-apple tree admiring the moths buzzing about the gardens. His companions from Rihad were not so cheerful, huddled exclusively in a tight circle by the hidden mountain entrance to the Silk Tomb where Baurus and Steffan waited for Martin to emerge from the previous night's festivities.

"They do not wish to be here." Roe sought to explain to Sasha his companions' aloofness. "I convinced them to stay and help me, though their punishment for doing so is banishment. For that I am scorned."

The Dunmer smiled and admired Roe's fiery red hair tied in a short ponytail. She brushed his hair behind the deformed mess of skin that was once an ear then rested her hand on Roe's neck.

"In their eyes I see admiration, not hate. Martin and the others look to you just the same. They need someone to _lead _them and it is quite obvious you are the one to do so."

"They have an Emperor, why not have him lead? It is his _right _after all."

"Martin is young but in time he will come to be a great ruler so long as there those to guide him along the correct path. So much has happened that we are all uncertain of what will come next, and whether or not we will succeed."

"And what if _I _am uncertain?"

Sasha paused before answering, her pale blue cheeks turning a blush red.

"You have our allegiance until the end Roe…and _you have me._"

Before Roe could answer, Martin emerged from the entrance to the Tomb, the high priestess Indira trailing behind. The young priest shone somehow more radiantly as if poised against the backdrop of a rising sun. His shoulders, once hunched over as an outward sign of humility, were confidently erect. Martin stood at least two inches taller and his demeanor matched this shown self assurance. Moth priests tending to the gardens turned and bowed. Baurus and Steffan placed a closed fist over their hearts and knelt in the presence of their Emperor. Even the low undertone of buzzing from the gypsy moths ceased. For the first time in months, Tamriel seemed at peace.

"So you went through with it 'mate? I'd know that look anywhere, no foolin' me. Good for you, because you'd be right daft for not havin' your pickins, especially when you don't gotta pay nuffin' for it." Connor interrupted, his crudeness matched only by his ability to speak up at precisely the wrong moment. "A decent shag nowadays runs you quite…"

Steffan cleared his throat and Connor abruptly stopped. Jiles tried to hide his amusement from Ayisha who frowned and slapped her Ansei brother on the back of his head.

"Good morning to you all." Martin greeted. "Indira has shared with me the secrets of the Xarxes and I now know how we can recover the Amulet of Kings. There are three items we must collect but doing so will not be easy. There is also the matter of organizing our Legions to protect the cities of Tamriel from Oblivion gates. Baurus, Steffan, Menien and I will return to Cloud Ruler Temple and coordinate our efforts there."

"With your permission highness, I would like to stay behind and aid Indira and her Moth priests." Menien humbly begged of Martin. "As your companions can attest, my knowledge of the Daedra has already aided our efforts greatly. I would also not dream of burdening any of you with my disability, especially when our mission is so urgent."

Martin looked to Indira who shook her head in disagreement.

"Perhaps once we have completed our tasks, Professor. In the meantime I will arrange for a compliment of Legionnaires and Blades to stand watch over this monastery in my absence." The young priest spoke personally with Indira who smiled back reassuringly. "For the rest of you, time is of the essence so we are forced to divide our numbers and spread out to retrieve these items. Know that with every passing day, the threat of invasion grows closer. Fear neither death nor contemplate the consequences of defeat, for in time we shall all be reunited and from the heavens look down upon the world we helped save, or lament over our greatest failure."

* * *

><p><strong>Still scratching you head? I hope that this different and unique look at the Elder Scrolls universe was fun for you! The remainder of <span>Chasing Moons <span>and A New Dawn will follow Martin and his heroes as they scour Tamriel for the Artifacts of Xarxes, confront the Armies of Dagon at the walls of Bruma and bring the war to Mankar Camoran! **

**Thank you for reading! **

**BB**


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